


Golden Eyes

by justkeeptrekkin (orphan_account)



Series: Ineffable Husbands prompts (justkeeptrekkin) [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Fluff, M/M, Snake Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 02:33:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19781461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/justkeeptrekkin
Summary: Crowley is self-conscious about his eyes. Aziraphale thinks he knows just the thing to make him feel loved.





	Golden Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! By popular demand, I have added my prompts to AO3! The original post is here: https://justkeeptrekkin.tumblr.com/post/186196393270/if-youre-still-doing-ineffable-husbands
> 
> Come find me at justkeeptrekkin if you want to submit a prompt :)

“Crowley, dear, where are you hiding?”

Crowley cracks open one snake eye. Technically, he isn’t hiding. He _had _been napping, until Aziraphale’s sing-song voice woke him up. Naps are always significantly better when you can be a snake and curl up in some quiet nook somewhere. No bed required. No judgment. Because, unsurprisingly, people don’t tend to judge snakes that happen to be asleep behind a bookcase- they just scream and run away.__

__Crowley pokes his snakehead around the edge of said bookcase and darts his tongue. He can taste Aziraphale’s cologne in the air. Out of sight, somewhere in the room, Aziraphale sighs wearily, but affectionately._ _

__“Oh, come now, there’s no need for that. If you want to ignore me then don’t go to sleep in my bookshop.”_ _

__He stretches his head out further, and he sees him- stepping slowly into the room, looking about the place with a small smile and a twinkle in his eye. His neck craned backwards so he can gaze up into the light that pours through the glass dome above. Bathing in it like the day he was born- how all angels are born, in the light of God’s smile._ _

__All angels including Crowley, once upon a time._ _

__Crowley lets his snake eyes stare at him from afar, just for a moment longer. Then, he gathers his limited energy and slithers into view. He likes a good slither. Slithering is much more satisfying than walking, which involves using too many joints, and hips getting in the way. Just as he’s about to sneak up behind Aziraphale’s back, the angel turns and peers down. He sighs again, straightening his waist-coat thoughtlessly._ _

__“Oh _there_ you are, my love.” Crowley’s cold blood warms at those words. He curls around Aziraphale’s leg like a vine, wrapping around his waist and coming to rest his head on his shoulder. Aziraphale peers over at him with narrowed eyes and raised brows, a furtive smile. “Where have you been, then? Scare any customers away?”_ _

__“ _Yesssssss. Jusssst a couple. One of them almosssst called animal control._ ”_ _

__“Wonderful. Hang on- actually,” Aziraphale double takes, planted on the spot now that he has a giant python wrapped around him. “Not all that wonderful, Crowley. I do very much appreciate that you’re- uhm-”_ _

__“ _Sssssstanding guard_ ,” he supplies._ _

__“Fine, standing guard, however you want to call it. I admit that it was getting exhausting miracling all the customers away, and I do love you for doing this, but- I don’t know how many times I can convince the RSPCA that ‘no, there’s no python here, everything’s just fine, tickety boo, nothing to worry about, officer, thank you very much, have a nice day’. And all that.”_ _

__The chastising look he’s getting from Aziraphale isn’t very intimidating- actually, it’s a bit comical, particularly with his face this close to Crowley’s. He can only see him with one eye, anyway- the other eye, on the other side of his snake head, is facing Aziraphale’s desk and surveying the half drunk bottle of whisky with interest._ _

__Thinking that perhaps he ought to give Aziraphale a chance to have a real conversation face to face, he makes a sussurating, serpentine sigh and takes his human form. By the time scales have become skin and the tail has become limbs, he’s still wrapped around Aziraphale, albeit with his feet on the ground. His arms are around Aziraphale’s waist, clinging. His face buried in the soft cashmere of his jacket. His breath hot on his face, trapped between the material and his lips. He lets himself hang there._ _

__Aziraphale feels like home._ _

__It makes Crowley angry sometimes, thinking of all the times he could have held him like this, _felt_ like this. All the times he could have been braver and said those three simple words._ _

__“Have you been sleeping all morning?” Aziraphale asks gently, rubbing his back._ _

__“Sleepy,” he grumbles._ _

__“ _Oh, dear_.” The way Aziraphale says this is like he’s consoling a moody toddler. _ _

__“S’fine. Just that it’s cold outside and your shop’s warm.”_ _

__“Mmm, yes. I turned the heating on the day before yesterday. Such strange weather we’re having at the moment. Do you know, British Gas rang me yesterday and tried to tell me that I haven’t been paying my bills. Can you believe it?”_ _

__Crowley snorts, lifts his head up and leans back from their embrace a little. Soft, but stern pale eyes scan over Crowley’s face._ _

__“What did you say?”_ _

__Aziraphale blinks at him. “Well, obviously I found my log books and gave them a thorough run down of my payments. As if I don’t keep track of my bills. Really.”_ _

__“ _Really_ ,” he agrees with amusement._ _

__There had, of course, been the time when Aziraphale had been visited by the Tax Man for being so suspiciously good at balancing his books. Truth is, he really is just that diligent. Crowley briefly feels sorry for the British Gas employee who must have been on the other end of that phone call- they must have had their ear talked off. Gotten a proper lecture, just like the Tax Man. And then, Crowley is bizarrely overwhelmed by how proud he is of Aziraphale for being so unceasingly irritating._ _

__This thought process is interrupted as Crowley registers the dreamy look on Aziraphale’s face. A sweet smile and pinched brows._ _

__“What is it,” he asks warily. Aziraphale’s soppy expressions usually indicate when Crowley’s unintentionally done something nice. Or romantic._ _

__Well, at least, it’s very rarely intentional._ _

__“Nothing, my dear.” Aziraphale pats his chest with a coy smile. Implying it’s not nothing at all, and he’s about to expand any second-_ _

__“It’s just,” the angel continues, gaze peering at him through his lashes. “You have such lovely eyes. Sometimes, it just catches me off guard.”_ _

__Of all the things for Aziraphale to say, he hadn’t expected that at all._ _

__And after all the years that the two of them have known each other, his compliments still make Crowley twitch._ _

__“Don’t be stupid,” he mutters. He hates how he sounds._ _

__And he loves that Aziraphale is unfazed by the sneer that’s most probably on his face right now._ _

__“You do. They’re really, truly beautiful, my dear.”_ _

__“Stop it.”_ _

__“I am being totally serious.”_ _

__“That doesn’t mean you’re right.”_ _

__“Oh- I may be a bit daft at times, but I’m right about some things, and this is one of them.”_ _

__“God you’re- you’re insufferable-”_ _

__“You’re beautiful, Crowley-”_ _

__“ _Aziraphale_.”_ _

__“Your eyes are golden like Autumn leaves-”_ _

__“Jesus. I’m- I am genuinely considering becoming a snake just to strangle you, you do realise that-?”_ _

__“Shining like distant suns-”_ _

__“I _will_ leave you.”_ _

__“Do you not see that you have nice eyes, Crowley?”_ _

__“They’re fine. They’re eyes. Serve their purpose.”_ _

__“Yes but- they’re _golden_. They’re _remarkable_. Some would even say angelic.”_ _

__“Except they’re not, are they?”_ _

__The teasing smile on Aziraphale’s expression falls a little. The teasing tone in Crowley’s voice turns bitter. And Aziraphale’s hands hold onto the lapel of Crowley’s jacket. The gesture is strangely protective._ _

__“Oh. _Oh,_ I’m sorry, Crowley. I hadn’t realised you were self-conscious,” Aziraphale says quietly. Just for them to hear, even though they’re alone in the bookshop._ _

__And Crowley doesn’t look back, even though he feels Aziraphale’s eyes on him. He _refuses_ to look back. Something in him makes him want to run away. He doesn’t- instead, he grinds his teeth and breathes loudly through his nose, staring at the pile of E. M. Forster books on the table adjacent. _ _

__He could stand here silently and ignore that statement, or he could argue (and lose that battle, because there’s no use arguing with Aziraphale). Instead, he sighs._ _

__“They’re not angelic, though, are they. They’re the one thing about my form I can’t change. If I discorporate, I could have any other body, but I would still have these eyes.” And he thinks he’s finished, except he hasn’t, because the words tumble out of his mouth like he’s drunk. “Just- you know, a fun reminder of that little mistake I made, when I was young and reckless- and hung out with the wrong crowd, like any stupid kid does. A warning to everyone else that I’m wily. And _bad_ and _cruel_ and _untrustworthy_. Because, obviously, you know, people deserve to have their mistakes literally branded on them for the rest of eternity.”_ _

__And then he really is finished, so he swallows and sighs, turning his gaze to Aziraphale’s bow tie. It’s not tartan today, but it’s just as poncy. Meanwhile, Aziraphale is quiet. Like he’s been embarrassed into silence for putting his foot so thoroughly in it, Crowley thinks._ _

__But then, Aziraphale always manages to surprise Crowley, just a little._ _

__“I know _just_ the thing.”_ _

__With one more comforting pat on Crowley’s chest, Aziraphale untangles himself and disappears behind some bookshelves. The shop feels almost frighteningly large- without Aziraphale’s close presence, without the tight nook of a bookshelf as a bed. Crowley peers over his shoulder to see him fussing, tutting to himself as he peruses a pile of dusty first editions. Moving one pile out of the way to make room for the next, bending down to find something in particular, it seems._ _

__“What you looking for, angel,” he asks, a little gruffly in his confusion._ _

__Aziraphale doesn’t answer, which is his way of telling Crowley to be patient and bear with him. Eventually, he makes a pleased little hum, and pulls out a book from the bottom of the very last pile._ _

__Aziraphale twirls around theatrically to face Crowley, book open in one hand and the other clutching his chest._ _

__“ _Golden Eyes,_ ” he announces, with his best thespian voice. “A poem by Laurence Hope.”_ _

__“No,” is all Crowley says in response._ _

__“ _Oh Amber Eyes, oh Golden Eyes! Oh Eyes so softly gay!_ ”_ _

__“Christ.”_ _

__“ _Wherein swift fancies fall and rise, Grow dark and fade away!_ ” Aziraphale begins to pace the room, book hand extended like he’s reading from a script. Like he’s one of Shakespeare’s actors, only, miraculously, even more ridiculous. “ _Eyes like a little limpid pool That holds a sunset sky, While on its surface, calm and cool, Blue water lilies lie-_ ”_ _

__“You can stop now,” Crowley argues, a smile creeping up on him._ _

__Aziraphale seems to pick up on his amusement, because he bounds over with dramatically wide eyes, and is now, God help him, making whimsical hand gestures to accompany his performance. He’s enjoying this too much. “ _Oh Tender Eyes, oh Wistful Eyes, You smiled on me one day, And all my life, in glad surprise, Leapt up and pleaded ‘Stay!’_ Ooh, now, hang on,” he interrupts himself, “let me just find my favourite bit…”_ _

__“You- don’t. You don’t have to.”_ _

__“I do, and I shall,” he replies primly, putting on his reading glasses and tilting his head upwards so he can read the pages a little better. “Ah! Here we are- are you ready?”_ _

__“No.”_ _

__“ _Ah laughing, ever-brilliant eyes, These things men may not know, But something in your radiance lies, That, centuries ago, Lit up my life in one wild blaze Of infinite desire To revel in your golden rays, Or in your light expire_.”_ _

__And- yeah, alright, that is quite nice, Crowley thinks. Maybe he can put up with being serenaded every now and then, so long as he gets to roll his eyes and pretend he hates it. And Aziraphale’s bashfulness finally seems to catch up with him as he approaches Crowley slowly, eyes fixed on the book and a small, self-conscious smile on his lips._ _

__He continues, softly._ _

__“ _If this, oh Strange Ringed Eyes, be true, That through all changing lives This longing love I have for you Eternally survives_ -” _ _

__Crowley reaches out a hand to find Aziraphale’s, to run along his arm._ _

__“ _May I not sometimes dare to dream In some far time to be Your softly golden eyes may gleam Responsively on me_?”_ _

__And at that, Aziraphale sighs. He looks away from the page and Crowley takes the book from him, lays it on the table behind him._ _

__“Well?” Aziraphale asks quietly. A little coquettishly. “May I dare to dream?”_ _

__Crowley huffs and shakes his head. He lays a hand on Aziraphale’s cheek, watches the angel’s eyes flutter closed._ _

__“You silly sod,” he whispers, just so he doesn’t have to hear himself choke._ _

__With that said, he answers Aziraphale’s question- he answers in a kiss. Soft, sure, and more eloquent than any words he’d ever be able to stumble through._ _

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me at justkeeptrekkin if you want to submit a prompt :)


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